


the up all nights

by thebitterbeast



Series: challenge me to a drabble [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: M/M, OTP Drabble Challenge, Pre-Slash, Prompt Fill, Still pre-slash, again i edited the prompt slightly to better fill the story, because it just worked better with ray acting like a child, mick is so done with his scientist, slightly more shippy than the last
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 19:24:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9918632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebitterbeast/pseuds/thebitterbeast
Summary: Sometimes Ray forgets to rest. Mick is there to remind him.Prompt: "You can't make me." - "What are you? Five?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> as prompted by [pheuthe](http://pheuthe.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.

The fingers of his left hand were tapping idly along the edge of the table. Not that Ray noticed, the pencil in his other hand moving almost frantically down the papers in front of him. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he was squinting, mind whirring but eyes struggling to focus on the words that were beginning to swim in front of him.

He had to finish this, though. The exhaustion he could feel seeping through him could wait. If he left his work now, he would forget what he had come up with, the breakthrough he was so close to, and he would have to start all over again.

So he fought back the urge to close his eyes and take a short catnap and attempted to once again concentrate on his work.

The tapping intensified.

Done unconsciously, yes, but growing louder as Ray struggled with his exhaustion and his refusal to rest. Loud enough that it caught the attention of a passing Mick. Ray did not notice the older man at the doorway, or the flash of concern on his face when he caught sight of Ray hunched over his table uncomfortably, eyes betraying the tiredness he refused to admit to.

He **did** notice the rumble of, “Haircut, what are you still doing up.” It made him jump slightly, before he twisted in his seat, eyes wide when they landed on Mick’s scowling face.

Instinctively, Ray smiled, bright and easy – and obviously tired. Mick’s scowl deepened, and Ray’s grin dropped. “I’m just -” he gestured vaguely at the papers in front of him. “Finishing up some things.”

Mick crossed his arms across his chest, raising an eyebrow in judgment. If Ray’s eyes dropped and lingered on the way the muscles in the other man’s arms flexed, well, he would take it to his grave.

“And how long have you been ‘finishing up’?”

There was a mocking tone to Mick’s voice that had Ray wanting to bristle. Instead, as he opened his mouth to retort, a yawn took him by surprise. He raised his hand to cover his mouth, swaying in his seat, and then frowning when the smug look on Mick’s face came into focus.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, even though Mick had not said anything.

“ _Sure_ , you are,” the sarcasm was thick in the older’s voice.

Ray’s frown tightened into a straight line, and he turned away from Mick. After all, there was nothing he could say that would have the other believe him. He thought, or hoped, that by ignoring Mick, the other would leave him be. The huff of irritation echoed in the sudden silence of the room, and Ray tensed as he heard Mick’s footsteps approach him.

“Haircut.”

Ray stubbornly refused to look up. But he did not have to look to know Mick was rolling his eyes.

“Haircut, go to bed.”

“No.” He was being childish, he knew. But he was so close, **_so close_** to a breakthrough. He made a note on the paper in front of him, sparking another thought that had him lean forward and start scribbling a little more obsessively.

Mick snatched the pencil out of his hand. Ray looked up, shocked by the action, but not by the frustration on Mick’s face. “Sleep, Palmer.”

Ray’s lips turned down, less in a frown and more in a petulant pout. “ **No** , Rory.” He turned away, pulling open the top drawer of the table and digging through it to find another pencil. Mick pushed the drawer closed, eliciting a squeal from Ray as he barely managed to get his fingers out before they were caught.

“It wasn’t a question,” Mick retorted, scowl back on his face. Ray pressed his lips together in annoyance as he took in the other’s countenance.

He crossed his arms defensively across his chest and scowled right back. “Make me.” It was not meant to be a challenge because he was pretty sure Mick would simply grown and leave him to his own devices. After all, he was not Mick’s responsibility.

Mick’s scowl dropped into a mask of irritation, though Ray thought he caught a hint of amusement lurking behind the expression. “What are you? Five?”

Ray simply shrugged and turned back to his work, sure that this would be enough to get Mick realize he was not going to budge. What he got was a muttered, “You asked for it, haircut,” before Mick was tugging him out of his chair and slinging him over his shoulder.

The scientist floundered for a bit, hands swinging uselessly as he tried to find something to hold on to. His eyes were rounded with surprise as he tried to wrap around Mick’s torso to see his face. But he was tall, not made of rubber, and he found himself hanging limply, face almost level with Mick’s butt.

It was a nice butt.

He shook himself, trying to comfortably cross his arms across his chest in his awkward position. “Mick, put me down.” He tried to sound stern, but considering his undignified squawk when Mick tapped his butt to quieten him, and the way his hands flailed, he did not even come close. At least Mick could not see how red his cheeks had gotten.

“You’re lucky I’m not knocking you out.” Was that unholy glee in Mick’s voice or was Ray imagining things?

But Mick had a point, and Ray kept his mouth shut for the rest of the short trip back to his room, praying the blood in his cheeks would lessen before they reached. He was still a little flushed when Mick unceremoniously dumped him on his bed, a finger in his face as he ordered Ray to “Stay,” before telling Gideon to keep Ray until he had gotten some rest.

Gideon readily agreed, and Ray pouted, a muttered, “Traitor,” shot at the ceiling. Mick shook his head, calling Ray an idiot before leaving the room.

The warmth in Ray’s cheeks spread through him as he settled into his bed. It may have been an unorthodox method, but Mick had shown concern for him. Concern and fondness, he was sure of it.

He fell asleep quickly, smile on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> i am not sorry for the fluff. these two deserve all the fluff. feel free to yell at me about these two on [tumblr](http://ankahikoibaat.tumblr.com/) about literally anything about them.


End file.
